


Patterns

by Masterofkarate



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: (rated mature b/c of the emotionally heavy content), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fist Fights, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Substance Abuse, Suicidal Tendencies, Trauma, csa tw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 06:02:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17380985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masterofkarate/pseuds/Masterofkarate
Summary: "Every year since that first fist fight in the school yard, winters had been hard for Charlie. Charlie didn’t notice the pattern. Mac did, but he didn’t know the why. At this point, the why wasn’t important.What was important was surviving the winters. Whether that meant fist fights or swallowing bleach by the gallon made no difference. Survival was the only thing on Mac’s mind whenever the temperature dropped."Mac observes that winters are hard for Charlie, and it's been Mac's responsibility since they were kids to help him through this emotional cycle that nobody else seems to notice.





	Patterns

**Author's Note:**

> 1st chapter is a brief synopsis of the pattern of Charlie getting bad in the winter that Mac's observed. The second chapter will take place during s13, but it's gonna be a full scene, so like I wanted to make it its own chapter.

“Charlie! Stop! C’mon! We gotta go, bud! Charlie!” Mac shouted as he pulled on Charlie’s shoulders. Charlie was pinning down an almost-thirteen year old in the grade above them, Charlie’s fists wailing down on him, teeth baring down on his flesh. 

Mac could see the blood. He could feel Charlie’s rage vibrating through his bones. Worse, though, he could see the teachers approaching from all sides. Charlie was always in so much trouble at school, he couldn’t get in trouble for such a bad fight. 

Mac knew the kid they were fighting would never name Charlie if they got away now, but it felt impossible to pull Charlie out of his blind rage. Mac was bigger and stronger than Charlie, sure, but he didn’t have the resolve that Charlie did. He didn’t know what made Charlie so angry, but it was something that Mac couldn’t compete with.

Mac was tugging and pulling, screaming Charlie’s name until Charlie almost went limp, falling back into Mac’s arms. Mac pulled Charlie up by the hand and started running, dragging Charlie along with him. For blocks and blocks and blocks they just ran. They ran away from the teachers chasing them. They ran away from their anger. They ran away from their fear. They ran away until it was just them.

They sat far-too-close to some train tracks. Mac put his arm around Charlie, but Charlie scooted away and put his arms around his knees. Mac didn’t get mad. Mac asked Charlie what was wrong, but Charlie just started tossing rocks at the train tracks. Mac mimicked his actions. 

On the walk home, Mac gave Charlie his jacket. Charlie’s had fallen off during the fight or during their run and it was cold outside. The jacket was too big, but Charlie liked it just the same. Charlie let Mac hold his hand on the walk home. 

When Mac dropped Charlie off at his house, he saw Charlie walk towards the alley. He said he went in the back way, but Mac knew there was no back door. He let Charlie lie, though. He didn’t know why Charlie hated going home so much, but he didn’t push the matter. Charlie got upset when you asked too many questions, and Mac hated to see Charlie upset.

* * *

 

“C’mon, stay with me buddy,” Mac whispered, rubbing Charlie’s back. They were locked together in a stall in the boy’s bathroom at school. Charlie was slumped over the toilet, Mac was behind him, rubbing his back.

Mac had to induce the first round of vomiting. He had actually opened Charlie’s mouth and stuck his fingers down his throat, like he’d seen bulimic girls do in movies. And it worked. It was disgusting, but he was so scared that he didn’t even notice. 

The transition to freshman year of high school was tough. Charlie had been doing a little better in school the previous year, just well enough to get into the private catholic school with a few professional notes Mac had convinced Charlie to get from their previous school’s psychiatrist and the priest at Mac’s church. And Mac doing all of Charlie’s homework didn’t hurt Charlie’s grades.

Mac really liked high school. He started selling weed. Making friends. He even dated a few chicks. Charlie only liked high school because nobody really cared if or when he was getting high. Other than that, he did not have a great time. 

He didn’t let it show, not until the winter hit. Every year since that first fist fight in the school yard, winters had been hard for Charlie. Charlie didn’t notice the pattern. Mac did, but he didn’t know the why. At this point, the why wasn’t important.

What was important was surviving the winters. Whether that meant fist fights or swallowing bleach by the gallon made no difference. Survival was the only thing on Mac’s mind whenever the temperature dropped.

* * *

“Shut him the fuck up!” Dennis screeched from his bedroom.

It was three in the morning. Only half a year ago, Dennis moved back home to South Philly from University City, into the cozy two-bedroom apartment with Mac.

Mac was still riding off the high of his renewed, much closer than before friendship, but his concern for Charlie had outweighed that high for the first time in a while.

Charlie had showed up with no warning in the middle of the night. He was high. Not from inhalants or weed, but something different. Mac wasn’t sure what he was on or how he got it, but he was talking really quickly and really loudly and his eyes were dilated.

“Charlie, calm down, come on,” Mac said in a stage-whisper, trying to make eye contact with Charlie, whose eyes darted away each time. Looking at the ceiling or the floor or the wall, but never at Mac. “Charlie, it’s me, Mac! You’re safe! Nobody’s gonna hurt you!”

Charlie was talking about being alone. In the dark. About nightmares or men of the night, or some sort of nonsense. Of being attacked all the time by the night time.

Mac couldn’t understand it.

Dennis had told Mac stuff from the psych courses he took. Dennis liked to tell Mac about everything he learned, just so he could show off how much smarter he was. Mac was pretty sure Charlie was having a panic attack.

They had had some mild winters these past few years, but today was bad.

Mac was still stage-whispering comforting things and Charlie was still shouting over him about mean men when Dennis stormed in the room.

“I swear to god,you need to shut the hell up, little man!” Dennis said, extending his hand to point dramatically at Charlie.

“You want me to shut up? Is that what you want?” Charlie asked, voice raising in volume and pitch with each word.

“Yeah! That’s what I want!” Dennis shouted back.

Charlie let out a loud, visceral scream. He charged full-force into Dennis, knocking him into a wall. He punched Dennis hard, one time, and then left the apartment without another word.

Charlie didn’t come around too much for a few weeks following. Mac was afraid they wouldn’t survive that winter, but when the sun started to stay out longer, Charlie started to come around more often. Charlie survived it, yet again. They survived it, yet again.

* * *

They bought the bar in mid-December in the late ‘90s. Everything was good. Everybody was in high spirits. The gang was all hanging out. Mac and Dennis were the main owners, they’d given Charlie a couple of shares to make him feel important. They hired Dennis’ sister to be a waitress, Charlie mainly did the janitorial work.

Charlie was so happy. Working at Paddy’s gave him an excuse to stop trying at dead-end jobs that always fired him. Dishwashing jobs and landscaping jobs and janitorial jobs and warehouse jobs. All of which he got fired for, mostly for incompetence. Sometimes for being emotionally unbalanced. With the birth of Paddy’s, Charlie had a steady job that made him feel good and helped pay the bills a little better.

Mac thought, for the first time in a long time, they would have a good winter.

Then, one day, Mac came in to open the bar. He was very lucky to be the first one in the bar, because Dennis would have flipped out if he’d walked in on what Mac did.

Broken bottles lay strewn throughout the bar. There were several puddles of vomit on various locations of the floor. Several tables had been flipped to their sides. Charlie was passed out on the bar top, he had cocooned himself into a promotional banner they’d received from a shitty beer company.  

“Hey, Charlie,” Mac whispered as he approached the bar. No response. He shook sleeping Charlie’s shoulder.

“What! No! Get off!” Charlie shouted, springing into a sitting position as he woke.

“Hey!” Mac called in a more commanding voice. “It’s just me, man. It’s me. What the hell happened in here?”

“Oh,” Charlie’s eyes went back down to lazily half-lidded. He glanced around the bar and shrugged. “Nothin.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” Mac answered, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice.

“It was.”

“You know what, it doesn’t matter, just, go home before Dennis gets here. I have to clean up.”

“Of course you have to clean up for Dennis,” Charlie mumbled.

“What’s that mean? I have to clean up the mess you made so that the only other person who owns as much of the bar as I do doesn’t get pissed off,” Mac spat at Charlie.

Charlie rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the bar top, dragging his feet behind him as he left the bar, not taking his jacket with him despite the weather.

They didn’t talk about it again. But Mac remembered about that little room in the vents that he and Dennis had discovered when trying to work on a heating issue. He brought Charlie there. Said it was a cool place to be by yourself. You could shout and break shit and nobody would never know.

He didn’t tell Charlie outright to make this his bad room, but he planted the idea. And it grew into exactly what Mac had intended for it to grow into. 

That was the last time, for many years, that Mac had to survive the winter with Charlie. Charlie started to brave the cold on his own.

Both Charlie and Mac felt more alone than ever.

* * *

From Mac’s perspective, winters were quiet for a long time. He could still see the storm inside of Charlie, despite Charlie learning how to keep his biggest outbursts a secret.

Sometimes, Charlie would be snappy at the bar. Arguing more frequently, trying to rebel against everybody. Sometimes he’d be more withdrawn, obviously becoming depressed. Sometimes, he’d abuse substances at an even more alarming rate. 

Still, nobody noticed but Mac. And Mac turned the other way. Mac made up excuses for ignoring Charlie’s state of distress. He told himself that Charlie wasn’t that bad, he hadn’t done anything extreme in years. Mac tried to ignore the images of the things Charlie may be doing without Mac’s knowledge. Mac told himself that he was too busy with his own life. Improving the bar. His friendship with Dennis. Various flings with women that he didn’t care about. He was a busy man.

When Frank came around, Mac finally felt like he could breathe without the immense guilt weighing him down. Charlie had somebody who understood him. Somebody who liked him the way he was, who specifically liked Charlie’s flaws most of all. 

Most importantly, somebody would be living with Charlie. Somebody would be able to keep Charlie safe from himself.

Nobody else realized that was part of the importance of Frank living with Charlie. Then again, nobody else noticed the patterns that Mac did.


End file.
